


You and I Know

by alianovna_grant



Series: This Feeling [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Fluff, Happy Birthday Steve!, Neighbors AU, Steve POV, Tumblr Prompts, all I know is fluff tbh, answered prompts, best friends au, beta read, prompts, secret relationship au, self imposed prompt, sneaking around is fun, teenagers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianovna_grant/pseuds/alianovna_grant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s kind of fun, having a secret.” au Tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Another ficlet from a tumblr prompt. This was basically conceived because I was having a hard time writing another fic and decided to write something from the secret relationship prompt list plus adding some birthday boy Steve's into the mix.
> 
> Title taken from the Ra Ra Riot song.
> 
> Comments and suggestions are highly appreciated, as always (and apologies for any errors)!
> 
> Enjoy!

He wakes up with her gentle prodding on his chest.

He doesn’t open his eyes immediately, he lays still, trying to make her think he was still fast asleep. But that trick has never worked on her. _Never._ She always knew, for some reason, whenever he was lying, or _trying to_. She’d told him countless times before how he was such a terrible liar. He didn’t really think so, he thought he was still capable of _some_ forms of fibbing, but she always managed to see right through him. She said it was because his face betrayed his emotions, like a story spread across his features and she was the most proficient at reading it. 

Even when they were still children she was the best at this. Nothing could get past Natasha Romanoff. Not when he took the animal crackers from her lunch box and told her Susie Carmichael gave them to him, not when he secretly fixed her broken bike chain in the dead of the night back when they were still in middle school, not even when he discreetly gave that asshat Brock Rumlow a good “talking to” when he said something particularly disrespectful to her. She managed to find out all of them, maybe knew even more. She’s gotten a lot better at it too, especially now that they were older; It was futile to hide things from her because she just always knew _somehow_. Maybe it was just because they’ve known each other for such a long time that it was just that, the cumulative years affording them no room for secrets. He smiles widely up at her while opening his eyes as he makes a grab for her hands, bringing them to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

She was straddling him, wondering for the hundredth time how she was so adept at moving around his room and even position herself on top of his body without him noticing. He was a light sleeper, but he’d never once felt her sneak up on him. She was leaning over him, her face haloed by her hair, the long locks draped between them -a mesmerizing vision, like watching dying coals. Her eyes were bright (the shade of blue and green he could never replicate with any paint or pastel) and playful, like it wasn’t midnight and she wasn’t exhausted from her dance practice earlier. He could smell the lotion she uses before going to bed, a faint trace of honey wafting from her skin, he wanted to bury his nose in her neck and just breathe in the scent.

“Steve!” she protests with a giggle, fighting to free her hands from his clasp. “What?” he smiles, trying to bring her flush to his chest, it was almost impossible _now_ , to not try to get her as close as he can to him. _Now_ that she wasn’t just Natasha from next door, _now_ that she wasn’t _just_ his best friend.

“Come on,” she whines, a lot softer this time. “Your mom might hear me. I know she just got back from her shift, I saw her car pull-in your driveway a few minutes ago,” she whispers, a knowing grin on her lips. He stops, giving in to her pleas, her hands settling on his broad chest. He could feel the heat of her palms through his shirt and his breath hitches at the contact. He chides himself for being such a _guy_. “Don’t worry,” he assures her, sliding his hands to her waist, he could feel her soft flesh underneath her hoodie, the curve of her body beneath his hands. He could feel her legs against his, soft and satiny against his thighs and he has the sudden urge to bring his palms to her legs, to feel if it with his hands because he couldn’t not touch her when they were this close. “It’s not like she hasn’t seen you sneak in my room at night before,” he says, grinning up at her.

She laughs, shoving his chest lightly, “But we were ten at the time,” slipping her hands to his shoulders. ”I don’t think six years forward it would still be considered cute getting caught sleeping in the boy-next-door’s bed. Plus, I don’t think my dad and my brother would be very approving, even if it is _you_ ,” she says with an arched brow, the corner of her lips upturned in a knowing smirk. _God, he loved that smirk._

He lightly squeezes her middle, “No, _you’re_ cute,” he declares unapologetically. He meant to say it jokingly, to make her laugh, but he’s slightly surprised at the tenderness behind his words.

He catches the softness flash in her eyes and she blinks it away at once. “God, Rogers, you’re such a sap sometimes,” she teases, rolling off of him and adjusts herself on his bed. He hears a suppressed yelp from her side.

”Sheesh Steve, you fell asleep sketching again,” she complains, arching her back off the bed, feeling for the errant object that assaulted her. He tries to keep himself from staring at her body, how beautiful she looked in the midst of his sheets and pillows. “Next time you’re gonna poke something with this and it’s not going to be pretty,” pulling the offensive pencil from under her and placing it on the bedside table along with his sketch pad.

“Yeah, Nick _will_ probably freak out when he finds out,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, thinking about Nat’s dad, who was also a cop. “But I don’t think Clint would disapprove. _Much_.” He takes her hand in his, weaving his fingers with hers. 

She stares at their intertwined hands for a beat before she responds. “Yeah, he would definitely love having his neighbor slash video game bud date his sister. Remember when Alexi dropped me off thirty minutes late and I missed my curfew?”

Steve winces at the memory of Alexi Shostakov (Nat’s first boyfriend, whom he wasn’t jealous of. No sir, _he was totally not jealous of him_.) suffer a week’s worth of pranks from Clint and his friends who were seniors at the time. And how could he forget? He was the one tasked to paint clowns on his car (he used water-based paint, he wasn’t that cruel). The guy _hated_ clowns.

“But it’s _me_ , he wouldn’t…”

“That’s just it. It’s _you_. We have no idea how he’s gonna take it.”

Steve does feel _slightly_ worried about Clint’s reaction even if he was trying to convince Nat otherwise. They were friends, they all grew up together, that has to count for something. As much as he was close to Clint, he was closer to Natasha. They were practically joined at the hip since they were old enough to say each other’s name. They were best friends, it wouldn’t be such a stretch for their families to find out that they weren’t _just_ best friends anymore, _right_?

He tries to shove the unease away, extending his arm to reach for her. The few inches between them was beginning to grow unbearable. “So when are we gonna tell them then?” he asks her comically, trying to veer the situation to somewhere light.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she answers coyly, “It’s kind of fun, having a secret,” inching her body closer to his. “All of this sneaking around makes me feel like a double agent or something,” she grins, knitting her fingers into his hair.

He relishes the feeling of her touch, comforting and maddening at the same time. He could feel the wanting simmering in his blood, the urge to bring his lips to hers growing more and more, but he doesn’t, _yet_. “I don’t really think that us being able to sneak into each other’s rooms is a huge secret, he explains, a smile tugging on his lips. “I think my dad installed that ladder, I mean _trellis_ , to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself. Notice how it’s never had anything growing on it all these years?”

She beams at that, “Yeah, I noticed. I don’t know, there’s just something exhilarating about trying to not get caught,” a devious smile on her lips. She lowers her hands to his face, tracing his eyebrows, his nose, his lips, with her fingertips.

“I suppose, the sneaking around _is_ fun. There are just things better done under the guise of night,” he waggles his eyebrows at her like some old-timey villain while she continues to caress his face, chuckling along.

“Next month, maybe? Before school starts?” she suggests.

“Definitely. Let’s spend the summer as fiends,” he proclaims with a cackle, finally closing in on her lips.

“Wait-” she says, halting his movements.

“I didn’t even get to do what I came here for in the first place,” she confesses, a slight furrow forming between her brows.

He could feel the smile beginning to spread across his face. “And may I ask what that is?” he teases. He sees the skepticism form on her face and he couldn’t help his smile from stretching wider.

“Are you actually asking me this?” she inquires with feigned annoyance. “I actually brought a cake this time, with candles and everything,” her eyes shifting to the box on top of his desk, “and not just some cupcake like last year or the year before and definitely not like the Twinkies from we were kids. I didn’t even get to set it up and light the candles, and man, was it hard to climb a trellis with backpack full of cake…” she rambles quickly, talking to herself.

She finally focuses her attention back to him and she stills, and he could see the tenderness and affection welling in her eyes. “Happy Fourth of July, Steve…” kissing the corner of his mouth, “…And Happy Birthday,” she breathes, a soft smile carved on her lips and he feels his heart constrict at her words, they were the same words she says every year but this time it feels so much better because things were different now. Because now he was _hers_ , and she was _his_ , loving each other in a _new way_ , a _way_ that made his heart pound and took his breath away.

He stares at her for a couple of seconds more, enjoying her warmth, her presence in his room - _in his life_. Despite the dim illumination coming from his bedside lamp he feels as though the room was set ablaze, everything brighter and glowing. She did that, for as long as he’d known her, her presence just made everything so much _brighter_.

He slides a hand to the curve of her cheek and she leans in to his touch, a shy smile forming on her face. He brings his lips to hers, finally closing the distance between them and he shudders at the feel of her soft lips gliding against his. It was a slow and tentative kiss, a gentle meeting of lips and skin, a steady exploration, giving and taking, pushing and pulling until he could feel her breath grow hot and shallow. She brings her hands to the back of his head, tugging at his hair, wanting him closer while she kissed him even more fervently, her movements jerky and abrupt, as if she couldn’t get enough of him still. Her lips part, her soft sighs echoing in his room, urging him to deepen the kiss. Her mouth was warm and intoxicating, the taste of mint still lingering and he could feel his heart grow more frantic, wanting more, wanting to _feel_ everything with her. He slithers his hand on the small of her back, to the patch of skin left exposed and he feels the heat of her body and he wants nothing more than to feel her heated skin on his own. Kissing her was the best feeling in the world, it felt like he could drown in her, not wanting to come up for air. Like he could do this forever and still not get enough. Lately though, every time they would kiss he could feel something more stirring between them, something more demanding and insistent, not like the usual sensations when they made out. This feeling was impending, he could feel it every time they touched, how everything was more fevered and burning.

She stops, leaning her forehead on his, her breaths ragged and irregular. His own breathing wasn’t far off, his lungs were burning in the _best way_.

“Wow,” she whispers to him.

He brings her closer, enveloping his arms over her body and she nuzzles her face into his neck. “Stay here tonight?” he asks, he didn’t care if he sounded desperate. He wanted to feel her next to him, wanted to see her face as soon as he wakes up, even if they had to set the alarm for five so that she could sneak out and go back to her house.

“Okay,” she says, her voice muffled by his shirt. She looks up to see his face and he could see the mischief dancing in her eyes, “because it’s your birthday,” she adds, “but no funny business,” she says in mock seriousness.

“What?” he blurts out, trying to act hurt and failing.

“Let’s just say I’ve got something planned, _for later_ ,” she states, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the lips. The look of disbelief on his face sends her into a laughing fit and the sound of her laughter makes his chest ache. He gathers her more tightly in his arms.

“Okay, let’s talk about that in the morning, birthday boy. For now, let’s get some sleep, I know you have to wake up early for the barbecue,” she says, burrowing her body even closer.

“Happy Fourth of July,” he mumbles with a smile, letting Nat’s even breathing lull him to sleep thinking of what she had in store for _later_.

He decides it was definitely his best birthday to date, and it wasn’t even morning yet.


End file.
